Page 80 of The Gentlewoman Companion

“A noble cause, but you have described every rag-clothed, flea-bitten child in London.”

“I understand, but it is imperative you do your utmost to find him.” Susan cried for her brother almost without ceasing and was not eating enough to sustain her. He feared she may become ill if Tom were not found. “He will not want to come, but tell him his sister, Susan, is sick without him.”

Mr. Fielding scrawled some information on a sheet of paper. “The fee is three guineas, more if it takes longer than a week.”

It was an exorbitant price, but behind his cunning eye James saw sharp intelligence and a touch of compassion. “I’ll pay, but you’ll take three cases gratis.”

A half-smile crept over Mr. Fielding’s lips. “An idealist. Well, then, Lord Halverton, I accept, but you will owe the money whether your Tom is found or not.”

“I will give you four if you find him within a week.”

“Consider it done.”

Hours later, after his mother and Louisa had gone and returned from a dinner party with Mrs. Beecham and Miss Fischer and wished him goodnight, James remained in his study, writing a petition to Chancery court to receive wardship for Margaret and Samuel, a missive he would not send until Margaret agreed to it. Beside him were letters to schools written on behalf of Samuel, a stack of documents concerning the Foundling Hospital, and correspondence from his steward. He rubbed his eyes and tried to think of a tactful way to explain his relationship with his half-siblings to the Court.

Soft footsteps on the stairs drew his attention. Louisa slipped into the room wearing a richly embroidered dressing gown that covered more of her than any dress. Somehow, without hoops or stays her form appeared even slighter, the movement of her slender legs visible beneath fine silk.

“Oh. You’re here. I thought perhaps someone had forgotten to bank the fire.” She spoke in a rush, clutching the thick braid that trailed around her shoulder. “I can’t sleep and thought you wouldn’t mind if I perused your books. You do have such good taste.” Her eyes darted to the shelf of books. “What do you recommend?” She fingered a green leather volume whose gold embossed letters were too far away for James to read. Not that he tried; he was preoccupied with contemplating the shining softness of her hair.

“I scarcely know what’s on the shelves.” His voice cracked.

“But you love books.” She did not face him.

“Those were collected jointly by my parents. Until recently, I’ve not spent much time here.”

She touched the spine of one book, then the next. He saw himself kissing her fingertips and shook the thought away.

She pulled a thick volume from the shelf. “Goodnight.”

“Wait.” He had not had a chance to speak with her since she’d broken decorum and raced through Hyde Park. “How did you enjoy the dinner tonight?”

“You want to know how much ridicule I’m receiving?” She collapsed in the settee across from him and clutched the book to her chest. “Just enough to regret it.”

He waited for her to say more. The silence stretched until she shifted, suggesting she might leave. Before she could stand, he said, “I’m looking for Susan’s brother.” He told her about The Warden and his visit to Bow Street. He described how his mother had revealed her knowledge of Margaret and Samuel’s identity as his half-siblings. He explained his desire to send Samuel to school and Margaret’s reluctance. Louisa accepted all his news with equanimity, exclaiming at the right moments, expressing sympathy and understanding where required. She appeared to intuit that he was not looking for advice, so she did not offer any. The warmth that blanketed him seemed to originate with her rather than the fire. He eventually asked, “Why do you suppose Margaret wants to return to her old life in poverty?”

“It’s where she is comfortable, what she knows. She is fortunate to have you but doesn’t know it yet. What will you do with all these children you’re collecting?” Her eyes shone in the firelight, liquid and full of something poignant, almost sentimental. Was it a mirror of his own longing? Could she share his feelings? His eyes strayed to her lips, but he caught himself. Whatever her inner turmoil was, it would keep them apart until it was dealt with.

“Perhaps one of the tenants at Lundbrooke will take them.”

She nodded. They sat comfortably in silence until she broached a new subject. “I apologize for riding so recklessly yesterday. Did it frighten you?”

“Not quite. You are a whip. Those horses were handled with an expert touch.”

“Do you think Mr. Morden is meeting the same criticism I am?”

“Unlikely. If you were not there to take the crown, I am certain he would have drawn more consternation.”

“Hmm.” She bit her lips, then pursed them, frowned, wrinkled her brow.

“What’s going on in there?”

“Where?”

“Your head.”

“Well, I am thinking about the way men and women are judged differently. And…wondering if I sabotaged myself. Did I race through Hyde Park because I am uncomfortable with the small accolades I received at the salon?”

“Did you?”